Staring at the gravestone, the tears slid down my face. I lived on the homestead with my Grandpa since I was ten when my parents dropped me off here and never came back. The last ten years they would send postcards from wherever they were but never came back. The farm workers wives helped me with things I needed to know growing from a awkward ten year old to a young woman who helped run the homestead. They were the ones who held me as I cried when Grandpa took his last breath and the ones who made sure I ate the days following. We tried reaching my parents but all the calls went to voicemail.
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